Friday, February 28, 2003

So you'll come help with my contest tomorrow, right? Right? I need ballot counters, a timer, a sergeant at arms... If you can get some other folks who don't know me to be judges, that would be great.

*blink blink* You're in Toastmasters, Josh? Wow, that is a small world.

just write? yeah, that's what happens when i just write. i'm not proud of it. expect better later.

a very interesting introduction, blythe. welcome.

in the small world department: sharon? i didn't know you were in toastmasters. i just received a forwarded email from you. i'm in the UT club. neat.

Hell of a way to introduce yourself to the group, Blythe. But I have been a poor hostess.

Gang, please allow me to introduce Blythe, newest contributor to our little collective. She's a member of the blog but is not yet in the topic rotation. I forget why we decided on that, but I'm sure it made sense the other night. Blythe is funky and hip and a fan of Audrey Hepburn. To my knowledge, she does not have any three-year-olds that she beats with belts. I don't think, anyway.

So c'mon in, Blythe, and put your feet up on the furniture.

Thursday, February 27, 2003

Heyup, glory.

I posted for Glory and Snowday. I'm pretty happy with snowday, but glory is kind of dull.

Friday, February 21, 2003

I'm a sucker for alliteration.

Thursday, February 20, 2003

Props to Ben on his 'l33t new JavaScript skillz. Check out the "whose topic" action goin' on over on the main blog. W00t.

Slowly, but surely, playing catch-up. And again. And again.

Wednesday, February 19, 2003

Blogger, convinced I was a hack, decided not to let me post for a while. While this may well be true I can once again post and thought I'd speak to the pressing issue of Green Men in Souvlaki Shops.

Tuesday, February 18, 2003

Catching up for yesterday...

Thursday, February 13, 2003

Not that I'm saying I know, much less work for, anybody like that...

Who, me?

Wednesday, February 12, 2003

This sounds awfully familiar, Sharon...

I didn't mean to start anything. Honest.
It says they're great in barbeques during the summer, not so much at. I was actually picturing thim in the object which we also call a barbeque, the actual semi-spherical steel object which to which one feeds charcoal and raw meat in order to obtain its efluvia, juicy cooked-meat.
Oh well.
And here I was just gonna gripe about my post today. I was almost done typing it, when I accidentally hit the < tab > button, and pressed enter, and the whole thing was swallowed. I don't know what exactly all happened, but my post got swallowed. The one that's up is the second draft. Dhavi Khanuni. Hee hee.
So, bbq'ed peep. Yum. ?

Growing up, there were two barbeque joints (that's the officially recognized term, by the by, is "joint." A rare English word, in that it can never be capitalized if used correctly.) The smaller of the two was called "The Old Timer Barbe-Q," and was actually on a dirt driveway off of I-45 (making it practically unique between Mexico and Canada at the time). It was run by one man whom we called by his first name. He had no other employees. His advertizing consisted of a bilboard which he owned, and which sat behind the building, being almost completely obscured by trees. The sign said, in red letters, "Old Timer," and nothing else. The other, or "fake" joint in town (my dad's adjective for it) was called something like "Oklahoma Bar-Bee-Que Grille," and we never went there. Both it and the Old Timer are gone. There's also the New Zion Baptist Church (and Barbeque), which has ostensibly been around and grilling since I was a boy, but it isn't a joint. It's a Church, which is quite the opposite. It just has a Barbeque joint grafted to it.
I come from a small, odd town. What can you do?
Dhavi Khanuni. Hee hee.

Tuesday, February 11, 2003

Not to add further strangeness to the barbecue argument, but Georgia, North Carolina, and South Carolina barbecue, or bar-b-que as it's spelled on some signs out here, are all a little different. They're usually shredded pork, brisket, or chicken in a vinegar-based marinade/sauce, served with Brunswick stew (the famous "stew and 'cue") and toasted white bread. Guess the bread is a constant. There are people who swear by the vinegar-ey North Carolina style, but I prefer the slightly sweeter Georgia, of which one of the best specimens can be found at Fresh Air Barbecue (BBQ, or whatever), a branch of which is located just outside Athens. I never had Austin barbecue, and for that I am sorry.

Monday, February 10, 2003

You heard him, boys. I mean, look at that spelling of barbecue. He's clearly not from these here parts.

You know what to do.

As a displaced northerner here in Austin may I simply ask: What the hell's up with the Wonder Bread man?! Any bar-b-q you go into around here they push a stack of Wonder bread on you with the clear implication that, should you be ever so foolish as to refuse it you'll be breaking some unwritten code of the south. Or maybe I'm reading too much into this.

As an enlightened northerner, I must protest: how could one possibly detest brisket? I think you need to visit Austin straightaway for some further indoctrination.

Friday, February 07, 2003

Oh, okay. I wasn't trying to be Ye Olde Defender of Yankees or anything. I just wanted to point out that when you say "barbecue" we don't all necessarily, or automatically, think picnic or patio grill. We may not have a lot of first-hand experience with it here as a food genre (and some of us may actively detest brisket), but we're not completely clueless. The snow only rots our brains a little, honest.

As for smoked Peeps, I imagine they wouldn't do much except caramelize. And I think I'm still a little weirded out by the idea of cream-cheese cupcakes.

I feel it is important to point out that some of my best friends are Voo Doo witches.

Excuse me, Mr. Defensive Yankee, but (1) I was talking about Ben misunderstanding what we meant by barbecue (The Peeps site says they are popular at barbecues, and he thought of smoked marshmallows.), and (2) no, you don't know what we mean by barbecue. Up in the frozen northlands, there is nothing like.

I gave a speech about this. Back home, "barbecue" is a noun, meaning an event; it is a verb, meaning to grill hamburgers over charcoal or propane; and it is an adjective, describing a thick, red, tangy sauce. In Tejas, you go out for barbecue. (Not barbecued chicken, not barbecued ribs, though you might go pick up some ribs in their own right.)

You go up to a meat counter, and you order brisket by quantity. ("Half-pound, extra moist!") The staff hauls a chunk of beef, crusty black with their special rub, out of a mesquite-filled smoker, and slices off the weight you ordered. Extra points if they hit it exactly. Then, they serve it to you on sheets of butcher paper, and give you a huge pile of Wonder bread, gratis. Beans, maybe cream corn, and banana pudding are usual staples. Sauce is optional.

That, my friend, is barbecue.

I think even we Yankees understand what you're talking about when you say "barbecue". Barbecued chicken, barbecued ribs -- these are familiar concepts, even way up north. Yes, a barbecue is an event, like a 4th of July celebration. But if you were to say, for instance, "let's go get some barbecue", I don't think we'd stare at you in confusion, wondering "what are they talking about?"

As for cream-cheese cupcakes...well, you're on your own there.

Catching up to the moment.

Again, a day late on my posting for "forest", I sit down to see today's topic: "Slippery Chicken & Frightened Bok Choy." Ben, was this the result of a random generator or a dream resulting from some bad Szechuan?

[stands in awe that Remi came up with something to say to that.]

Ben, it's worth pointing out that, up north, a barbecue is an event, not a food genre. It's a picnic, where you have people over for hamburgers, generic-brand soda, potato salad, pasta salad, tuna salad, fruit salad, egg salad, and those heavenly little cream-cheese cupcakes.

Thursday, February 06, 2003

He's awfully liberal, actually; he's just not a wuss about it.

I can picture him with a kazoo. Tee hee.

I'm still plotting out my vacation days this year, trying to decide on a summer vacation. Maybe to Philadelphia, maybe State College, maybe Four Quarters. Or *shrug*, maybe the Oregon Country Fair. Doesn't look like that would even take up too many vacation days: Fly out Friday morning, fly home Sunday evening. Call in sick on Monday. I'll have to think about it.

Sharon, you should tell your dad to go to the Oregon Country Fair some summer. Every year we have a Teddybear's Picnic Parade that marches through the fair playing the song on kazoos and an odd assortment of instruments.
Hee hee, your dad at OCF, it is to laugh.

If she's feeling better by Monday, she can take my topic if she wants.

Mom had technical issues today. That, and she has a cold. *sniff*

Wednesday, February 05, 2003

Josh, you're a geek. ^_^

Or, actually, a cyborg, like me.

More stories from CTY.

Tuesday, February 04, 2003

I may, at some point, try playing catch-up in earnest.

No worries. It's all about flavah, G.

For Jon, or for us?

Monday, February 03, 2003

Given Jon's last couple of posts, should we be worried?

At least I wasn't the only one who immediately thought of this pun.

Sunday, February 02, 2003

What the hell is Jon writing about?

It's Inevitable.

Saturday, February 01, 2003

Next time I see Stipe downtown, I'll tell him to drop you a line, Sharon.